


butcher with a smile, cut me farther than i've ever been

by willtoziers (vapoir)



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: ??? kinda, Aged up characters, Banter, Closeted Character, First Meeting, Flirting, Fluff, Humor, Language, M/M, More tags to be added, Secret Relationship, Some angst, almost this entire fic will take place over one night, eddie is the president's son, eventual sexual situations, his dad is a homophobic asshat !, modern day AU, richie is a bartender, set in chicago, stan and bill are in the first chapter for like .2 seconds, there is so much to tag wow, they will return
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 11:21:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13293777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vapoir/pseuds/willtoziers
Summary: Richie isn't fond of the President. He especially isn't excited when the First Family visits his town for a re-election campaign.Fate works in funny ways, though, and Richie realizes this when he finds himself in a bathroom stall with Eddie Kaspbrak, the President's son.





	butcher with a smile, cut me farther than i've ever been

**Author's Note:**

> i have no idea what this is, tags explain everything. have fun lmao let me know what you think
> 
> come hang w me on tumblr, willtoziers

Richie tried not to pay too much mind to politics. 

He had his morals, beliefs, and values, of course — which were pretty simple. Fairness and equality for everybody, right? It wasn't that hard of a concept to understand. 

Apparently to President Kaspbrak, yeah, it was a foreign concept. The dude was a complete homophobe, and it made Richie, a very loud and proud bisexual, wonder how the hell he even got elected in the first place.

To make matters worse, he was running a second campaign for the upcoming re-election. That campaign had landed him in Richie's wonderful city of Chicago, where he was to be speaking at some Republican rally later in the week.

It made Richie sick to his stomach, knowing someone with that much hate and bigotry in their heart was making decisions for the country in the White House for the last three and a half years. And now, he'd have to deal with the man roaming around his city for a few days, bringing out all the people who agreed with his beliefs with him. 

Luckily, Richie didn't have to worry too much about potentially seeing the man anywhere, since Richie spent the majority of his time either at home or at work. And his place of employment was definitely _not_ a place the President of all people would likely end up.

One of the many random privileges of working at a gay club, he supposed. 

It was a Saturday night, which meant the place was completely, totally packed. He'd started working there as a bartender two years after high school, after he'd decided college wasn't something he was interested in. It was a great way to meet people and the money wasn't bad, plus, he could make a kick-ass cocktail with his eyes closed right now if he wanted to.

He only had less than an hour left on his shift, and honestly, he was kind of thankful. He loved bartending, especially in such a welcoming, upbeat environment. But he could only take so many closeted forty year old men looking at him like a piece of meat before things got exhausting.

Richie always kept a grin on his face, though, jokes and cheesy lines falling from his lips like second nature. He had to earn his tips somehow, right?

"Whiskey sour on the rocks, my dear," Richie winked, sliding the glass across the bar to a giggling, auburn-haired man hanging off the arm of a less than enthused curly haired fellow. Bill and Stan — the two were somewhat regulars, coming to the club every weekend. Richie enjoyed their banter and the way they always looked at each other like no one else was in the room, even in a crowded club. Richie found it cute, and a nice refresher from the constant pick up lines and room invites from his other customers.

Stan shouted at Richie, free hand cupping his mouth to amplify the sound as he held Bill against his side. "He's cut off after that one, Rich! Gonna have to practically drag him to the Uber," he said, rolling his eyes. 

Laughing, Richie saluted him. "Aye, aye, Stanarino!"

Richie turned back towards the numerous bottles behind him, wanting to get a head-start at cleaning up so he could potentially get off on time. He had just started cleaning some of the shot glasses, when he heard a hesitant voice talking to him over the music.

"Um, I — I'd like a drink."

Of all the things Richie hears and gets shouted at, that was definitely new. 

Richie turned around, eyebrows lifting upwards as he took in the person before him. He was wearing a dark grey hoodie and a beanie over his head, and okay, Richie may be one for overdramatic fashion statements when he's feeling it, but who the hell wears sunglasses _inside_ anymore?

The guy was dressed like he was ready to hop over the counter and demand money, holding Richie at gunpoint. However, he was kind of smaller than most, his shoulders hunched insecurely, and Richie noticed his hands shaking slightly. 

He was nervous, for some reason.

 _Probably hasn't came out yet, probably hiding from his girlfriend or wife or something_ , Richie thought to himself, understanding washing over his features. He gave the boy a grin.

"Well, lucky for you, we've got those," Richie smirked, leaning across the bar. The guy glanced away uncomfortably, clearing his throat. Richie didn't pay it any mind. "What can I get ya, babes?"

Richie watched as the man bit his lip, looking over Richie's shoulder at all the bottles. Richie raised an eyebrow, waiting.

"I don't know," the guy said with a dejected sigh. Okay, now Richie was kinda confused. 

"Not much of a drinker?" Richie asked him with a tilt of his head, watching as the guy shook his own head. Richie hummed, reaching up to tap his chin. "Well, guess I'll just have to make something extra good for you, sugar. You want something fruity or strong?" Richie figured that would be the easiest thing to start with, reaching over for a glass.

The guy didn't miss a beat. "Strong."

Richie smirked, nodding as he started making the guy's drink. He figured some small talk wouldn't hurt — not to mention, he was kinda intrigued by his mannerisms. "You from around here?"

Arms crossed over his chest, he glanced at the people around him, before his eyes moved back to Richie. He shook his head. "Just visiting. Leaving in a few days, I'm pretty sure."

Humming, Richie reached over for a bottle of rum, mixing it in with the concoction already in the glass. "Pretty sure?" He raised an eyebrow, chuckling. "You don't sound like you're from Chicago, man, so it wasn't hard to tell. West Coast?"

Even with the sunglasses hiding his eyes, Richie could tell the guy was giving him a dead-panned look. It made Richie chuckle to himself. "East coast. Little up North," he mumbled, mindlessly playing with a string on his hoodie as he watched Richie make the drink. Richie couldn't really tell, but he could swear he saw the man's eyes widen a little. "What the hell even is that?" He asked, nose scrunching up.

Grinning, Richie pushed the glass towards him, full with an almost dark brown looking mixture. "Call it the Richie Special — Richie's me, by the way, I'm Richie. I'm probably gonna give it a cooler name if it ever picks up popularity around here, but for right now, it's just what I give to people really looking to get fucked up. Don't drink it too fast."

He nodded, taking the glass from Richie and bringing it up to his nose, sniffing it. Richie almost doubles over in laughter at the look on his face.

Without another glance at him, though, the guy takes his drink, leans over and slips some cash onto the bar, telling him to keep the change. It's a crisp, $100 bill. 

_What the fuck?_

Before Richie can stop him and refuse to accept that big of a tip, the guy is turning to walk away from the bar, and then it's like everything happens in slow motion.

At some point, without Richie even really noticing, a fight had apparently broken out right near the bar. Fights weren't a super common occurrence in the club, but they did happen, and were usually quickly stopped by the bouncers.

Before the bouncers could reach the fight, though, one man threw a punch, sending the other man falling backwards. 

As he fell backwards, he bumped into the oblivious person behind, sending them tumbling to the ground as well, their glass shattering on the floor beside them. 

It was the beanie guy Richie had just served at the bar, and he watched, frozen, as the sunglasses practically flew off his face with the impact of his fall.

Laying on the floor of a gay bar, two feet away from an on-going fist fight, clutching his bleeding chin that had been cut by glass — was Eddie Kaspbrak.

The motherfucking President's son.

As the people around them were too distracted by the brawl that still had yet to be broken up, Richie watched in frozen shock and confusion as Eddie scrambled up onto his feet, before darting in the direction of the bathrooms. 

And really, Richie should have left it at that. But he had too many questions, too many thoughts, and besides, the cut on the dude's chin looked pretty rough, and Richie knew where the first aid kit was.

It only made sense that he followed him. His shift was basically over, anyway.

Within less than five minutes, he was standing outside the one-person bathroom, first aid kit in hand as he raised a fist to knock on the door.

"O-occupied!"

Richie sighed, leaning his forehead on the door. "It's Richie. I already know it's you. I don't think anyone else saw, but —" he bit his lip, not knowing a convincing way to be let in the bathroom, when Eddie was obviously here in secret; a secret that Richie now knew.

"I have a first aid kit?" He tried, hopeful.

There was silence for a few moments, and then, the door opened. Barely.

"It's just you, right?" Eddie whispered, sounding hesitant to let him in. Richie nodded dumbly.

Eddie opened the door just enough for him to slide through, before shutting it quickly behind them, locking it.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, what am I _doing."_

Richie stood back against the door as he watched the President's son pace back and forth, hand still clutching his chin, blood staining his fingers. His beanie had been carelessly thrown to the side, brown waves going in every which direction. He was a mess.

He looked like a completely different person than the Eddie Kaspbrak he saw on TV and magazines. Always pristine, tailored suits, slicked back hair, easy smiles. America's golden boy.

If only they could see him now.

Rather than bringing up that whole side of things, Richie instead focused on a more important task. "Your chin, dude," he said softly, stepping forward. Eddie looked up at him nervously, keeping some distance between them. 

He held up the first aid kit, hesitant. "We should clean it up. Let me?"

And Eddie did the thing Richie had not been expecting. He nodded, sighing as he leaned back against the sink.

Richie immediately got to work, furrowing his eyebrows as he went through the small box. He knew little to nothing about tending to most injuries, but he figured it couldn't be that hard to figure out. He got a towel out and wet it with some water, before getting to work at cleaning up the blood on Eddie's chin and hand. "Probably won't need stitches. Gonna have to put a bandage on it, though."

Eddie winced in pain at first, but eventually grit his teeth and went with it. His eyes were squeezed shut and his hands shook, though Richie didn't know if it were from the injury or the shock of being caught. "Just make sure to get my good side when you snap pictures of this shit when you're done. I know TMZ will eat it up. _President's Son Has Wild Night At Gay Club?_ " Eddie said bitterly. Richie chuckled.

"First of all, that sounds like a really bad clickbait title. And second of all, stop talking so I can fix your stupid chin," he mumbled, tongue between his teeth as he reached for a bandage. Eddie stayed silent after that, and soon enough the cut was clean and bandaged up. "There ya go," Richie whispered, smiling hesitantly.

Eddie mumbled a small thanks, before turning around to examine himself in the mirror. He sighed, shoulders deflated, as he brushed his fingers over the covered wound. "I literally have no idea how I'm gonna explain this one."

Richie chuckled to himself, crossing his arms and leaning his right side against the wall. "I mean, technically, you _did_ fall. You could just leave it at that," he shrugged.

"I was _shoved_ ," Eddie said, frustrated. "Those fuckers should be glad I didn't have Secret Service with me."

 "Speaking of the elephant in the room," Richie said, turning to lean his back against the wall instead, looking at Eddie curiously. "How the hell did someone like you end up here?"

"What do you mean _someone like me_?"

"Uh — you know, First Family? Son of a notorious homophobic asshole?" Richie paused then, seeing the guilty expression wash over Eddie's face. "He doesn't know you're here."

"No one knows I'm here, dipshit," Eddie rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. "I snuck out of my hotel, so what? I try to get away as much as I can, and they never catch me. This is the first time in a while we've stayed somewhere long enough that's had a gay club close to the hotel. It's not like they would come looking for me here, anyway."

Richie nodded, taking in the information. "So, you are, then? Gay, I mean?"

Eddie's face flushed, his eyes suddenly interested in the floor. "Doesn't matter if I am or not. Not like I can start running around waving a rainbow flag anytime soon."

Richie looked at the President's son, and felt pity for him. He couldn't imagine having to hide who he is in front of the entire world, his name and blood being attached to someone who hated the very thing that he was himself. 

"Well, your secret's safe with me, Eddie Kaspbrak. Scout's honor," Richie promised, his lips lifting into what he hoped was a comforting smile. "For the record, though, you're father's a dick. Like, seriously — a massive cock."

He was surprised when Eddie laughed, then — a small, breathless noise that made his eyes crinkle a bit at the sides. It was adorable. "You have no idea," Eddie said. He paused for a brief moment, looking at Richie shyly. "Do you think anyone else saw me?"

Richie shook his head. "Everyone was more or less focused on the fight. I think it was just me."

"Lucky you, I guess," Eddie mumbled.

_Yeah. Lucky him._

Picking up his beanie, Eddie held it between his hands and sighed to himself. "There's no way in hell I'm going back to the hotel tonight. They probably won't even notice I'm gone until the morning, anyway."

"So, what are you gonna do? Hide in here until sunrise?" Richie chided.

Eddie shrugged. "Original plan was to come in here and get shit faced and dance with a hot guy or something, so. Didn't expect to end up in a bathroom with a babbling bartender and a bloody chin."

"Yowza. That's brutal, Eds."

Eddie rolled his eyes, laughing. Richie was struck with the random thought of how cute he was.

He spoke again. "Thanks, by the way. For promising not to tell anyone."

"You didn't let me finish, though," Richie said softly, eyeing him from where he was leaning against the wall. Eddie raised an eyebrow. 

Richie stepped forward, looking at Eddie with a challenge in his eyes. "I won't tell anybody. But you gotta do me a favor, too," Richie mumbled, before he could lose his nerve. Eddie looked suspicious, yet intrigued. 

"What kind of favor?"

Pursing his lips, Richie reached out and tugged mindlessly at one of the strings on Eddie's hoodie. "Hang out with me tonight. Let me show you how us normal folk have a good time in Chicago," he smirked.

Eddie didn't seem convinced. "Are you fucking crazy? What happens if someone sees me? One phone call and I'm done for."

"So? Put the sunglasses back on — fuck, we can get you a better disguise if you want, whatever. It'll be fun." Richie was looking at him with hope shining in his eyes, an unspoken plea on his lips.

Crossing his arms, Eddie stared at Richie with an equally as challenging look. "What makes you think I should trust you? How do I know you won't make a scene as soon as we leave this bathroom?"

"Eddie, honey, if I were gonna make a scene, don't you think I would have done it already?"

That shut Eddie up.

Richie raised an eyebrow, grinning, and held out his hand. "You can trust me, Eddie."

Surprising both of them, Eddie took his hand.

"Prove it, then."

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> see u next time, thanks for reading!!!!
> 
> tumblr is willtoziers


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